


What the Epi*@!# was thet? (or Revenge of the Epithets!)

by nimrod262



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Bad Writing, Bodice-Ripper, Epithets, Fluff and Smut, Good Writing, Humour, M/M, Nivanfield, RE Banter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 06:15:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6362794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nimrod262/pseuds/nimrod262
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A piece of fluffy, subversive nonsense directed at those who would have all of us writers conform to some perceived ideal. I approve of standards, but not the Thought Police! If you don't like the way something is written, then stop reading it - Doh! (No, not this, you can finish this . . . Oh go on . . . please!)</p><p>It is best read after reading 'The Opening', Theo and Nimrod's last adventure with Chris and Piers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What the Epi*@!# was thet? (or Revenge of the Epithets!)

**Author's Note:**

> My thanks to my good friend, and good writer, Theosymphany. Both for his additions and for his side of the argument re. the pros and cons of using epithets. This tale previously appeared as one of Theo's RE Banter series, #262, on tumblr. As usual, your comments are always welcome. What do you think about epithets and the way things are written?

 

It was the day after the fiasco of the 'Opening' ceremony of the BSAA's new archive building. Now forever known to the world as 'The Redfield Suppository'. Chris and Piers had invited the BSAA’s top archivists, codenamed theosymphany and nimrod262, to stay with them at the Deuce of Hearts for to the opening of the building. Theo and Nimrod were instrumental in the collection and cataloguing of much of the archive material, and subsequently advised on its storage and accessibility.

Theo usually works in the Oceania branch in Australia; whilst Nimrod works in Spain for the European branch. They have been friends with Chris and Piers for some time now, famously helping them defeat [The Asterisks](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4818368) when they attacked Nivanland. In their spare time, the two archivists jointly write blogs detailing the adventures of the BSAA’s two finest soldiers.

Theo and Nimrod had woken up feeling relaxed and refreshed from an undisturbed night's sleep. The earplugs Piers had given them the evening before had ensured a good night’s rest. Chris and Piers, however, seemed rather 'tired' when they eventually came downstairs the next morning . . .

"Hi guys, did you two get a good night's sleep?" enquired Chris, rubbing his eyes.

"Yes thanks, how about you?"

Theo and Nimrod couldn't help but notice that Piers seemed to be walking carefully.

"Um, we tried silent sex, so we wouldn't disturb you." said Chris.

"Oh?" said Nimrod, intrigued.

"And?" Theo asked expectantly.

"We found it only works if you keep your mouth full."

"Bear!" Piers pouted.

"Oh, or shut! One's more fun than the other though." said Chris.

"And one's impossible for some anyway." said Piers, looking directly at his partner.

"Oi!"

"Too much detail." said Theo blushing.

"Mmm, or not enough!" smirked Nimrod.

"What's the plan for today?" asked Chris, stifling a yawn, "I'm happy to stay here. I'd rather not be seen in public for a while."

"We'd like to read through some new storylines this morning if we may." said Nimrod.

"Why don't you two go for your run, and we can discuss it when you get back?" suggested Theo, looking forward to sitting down with a hot and sweaty Piers afterwards.

"Yes, let's get straight into it as soon as you return." said Nimrod, hoping to sit next to a sweaty and hot Chris.

Both archivists were to be sadly disappointed. Their hosts liked sharing the shower.

Later, over brunch, the two writers spoke about their plans for a new Nivanfield story . . .

"Nimrod wants to try out a 'bodice ripper' style banter. I'm into fluff and smut more than the next man, but I'm not sure about this." said Theo.

"Um, what's a bodice?" asked Chris scratching his head.

"It's a piece of clothing that covers the top half of the body, say like Piers' tactical vest." said Theo

"Ha, ha, that's always getting ripped." laughed Chris.

Piers rolled his eyes.

"It happens a lot then?" asked Nimrod innocently.

"I should say so, my Ace is always in the thick of it."

"Oh, and is that only during action?' asked Theo, less than innocently.

"Wouldn't you like to know." said Piers, winking at Theo.

"It happens all the time, on the front line, here at home, in the bedro . . ."

"Bearfield! Are there to be no secrets?"

"Well, I think that gets us all in the mood." said Nimrod cheerfully. "Look, here are the scripts, let’s try a read through . . . You start first Chris . . ."

************************

". . . The spittle flew from the panting Captain's mouth. Saliva, spilling from his searching and salacious tongue, ran down his rough and be-stubbled granite-hewn chin. The drool dripped down onto the pouting rose-budded lips of the object of his desire . . ."

". . . A large, calloused, hand squeezed the firm flesh of the rounded orbs of the young soldier's buttocks, whilst another roughly held his boyishly handsome head as his superior forced his manly attentions upon him."

"The young marksman, held tight in his seducer’s rough grasp, gasped and quivered. Part of him wanted to resist, with all his strength and youthful vigour. But another part wanted to return the rough-hewn kisses, to submit, to offer succour to his superior. He was caught in a quandary of indecision, a tangled web of lustful deceit and dangerous lies. His breath came in short hot pants, his skin tight tactical vest tantalisingly rising and falling in time and emotion with his fluttering heart."

"Come here my proud young beauty, you know you cannot resist me. For now you will grace my kitchen table; but tonight you shall grace my bed."

"Oh, Captain, think of the honour of the Regiment, what will the Colonel say? panted the younger breathlessly."

"You think I give a fuck, sorry, a fig, about Jill, er, I mean him? the elder snarled."

Piers giggled at first, then he laughed. Chris tried to carry on with the reading manfully . . .

". . . Oh, you can struggle all you like my fine young buck, resist me if you want. It only adds to the excitement of the chase. But deep inside your subordinate body, as deep as my rampant questing love will soon go, you know we are destined for one another, like Achilles and Patroclus, like Alexander and Huh, Hup, Hep, thingy."

"It's pronounced Hephaestion Babe." said Piers smugly. "He was Alexander the Great's partner."

"That's easy for you to say smart-arse." Chris looked at the two archivists. "Jeez you guys, did people really have names like that?" he said, scratching his head again.

"The great warrior lovers of the past, I thought their names would lend a classical feel to the piece." said Nimrod.

"I can't get my tongue around them." said Chris, scowling.

"Never been a problem before Babe." Piers said suggestively.

Chris began to laugh himself now.

"Sorry you two. I can't keep a straight face any longer. Do people really read this shi . . . stuff?"

"Stop, stop, stop!" said Theo, "This isn't working Nimrod, I tried to tell you."

"OK, OK, you were right, as usual . . . Er, I know! How about putting in some Epithets? We were on the verge of using them just then."

"Hmm, I'm not sure, they can be very annoying. There's been a lot of talk about them in the blogosphere lately. I do think some sense of correctness in style is necessary. For example if you constantly write in text speak, or colloquialisms, or use poor grammar. And besides, what will NnR say?" said Theo, raising his eyebrows as he looked at his friend.

"Who?" asked Chris curiously.

"They're our controllers." the two researchers replied. "They set the standards we have to follow."

"Archivists have controllers now, like us SOAs? Jeez, talk about jobs for the boys. No wonder that new building cost ten million bucks!"

"Yeh, I read that piece too." said Nimrod. "Warning writers about using Epithets. But it smacked of censorship to me; like having 'Thought Police'. If that's how you choose to write fine; others don't have to read it."

"I don't see it so much as Thought Police as what standards are." said Theo.

You should be free to write as much as you should be free to speak." said Nimrod passionately.

"Unless your practising silent sex." said Chris.

The others gave him a hard stare. "What? I'm just trying to contribute to this discussion on Epigrams."

"Epithets Chris." said Piers, quickly moving out of reach of Chris' raised hand. "An Epithet is an adjective or descriptive word expressing a quality or attribute, especially used with, or as, a name."

Chris' fist hit the table instead of Piers' shoulder. "I know what an Epitomize is, dammit!"

"Of course, it falls to the writer to ultimately decide what suits. There are no rules for the professional or the experienced I suppose." said Theo.

"DO as I say, NOT as I do, eh? I _like_ that." said Chris, grinning.

"Hmm . . . Oh well, let's try it and see what happens. But you can put them in Nimrod, this one's down to you."

Suddenly the secure phone sounded in Chris' office upstairs. He went to answer it; and came back down shortly."

"That was Command, for you guys. A message from your, ahem, Controllers." Chris winked at Piers as he said it.

Nimrod and Theo read the message.

 

**From: Central Archive - NnR Section.**

**To: Top Archivists Theosymphany & Nimrod262**

**Urgent Message: Stop.**

**You're on your own on this one. Pause,**

**Ha! Stop.**

**We advise using Epithets sparingly. Stop.**

**Like Asterisks! Stop.**

**It might be better to stop. Stop.**

**Heh, heh! Stop, stop!**

**Signed C. & P.**

 

"Who are C. & P.?" asked Piers, raising latte eyebrows.

"Um, Controllers and, er . . ." said Theo, floundering.

"Er. . . Publishers?" Nimrod suggested.

"Well, whoever they are and whatever they say, I'm up for it." said the Bear, "No epitome is gonna' frighten me!"

"Me neither superior." said the youthful. "Don't worry, we've got your six guys."

The bearded looked at the brainy. "See, they've started already, let's try it."

"Alright." said the younger, "We'll carry on from where we left off . . ."

************************

"The vigorous pushed the submissive onto the table. The rough hands of the experienced roamed freely over the toned torso and magnificent muscle of the novice. Shortly his BSAA bodice bore the brunt of beastly brutal behaviour. Like it's wearer, it had more than begun to fray at the edges. Soon the inexperienced began to weaken, his pursuer ripping holes in both his resolve and his hosiery. "I have you in my grasp now, rasped the philanderer." The sight of the pale yet perfect pink skin peeking through the rapidly disintegrating cloth drove the stronger to further heights of frenzied handling.

"Oh! You will never truly be my master", said the seduced to the seducer, "Unless, perhaps, I agree of my own venal volition . . ."

Suddenly the air around them crackled! Charged with an almost tangible electricity that pervaded the whole house. Through the windows the four friends could see the sky darken as it suddenly filled with ominous black clouds, oily and bilious. A clap of thunder sounded overhead and jagged lightning arced across the sky. Ruff whimpered and went and hid in his shemagh nest by the kitchen door. Piers clutched his right arm as it began to glow, the white veins pulsing in time to his heartbeat. Chris tensed immediately, his practised eyes scanning the surroundings. There was an unexpected knock at the front door. 'Bing-Bong!' It was unexpected because it sounded like a doorbell. Chris knitted his heavy brows, never dropping a stitch; whilst Piers raised his coquettishly. He'd always thought they were just one of his many best features . . .

Chris motioned Piers to stand out of sight to the side of the door as he opened it. Four muscular men in 'I _heart_ Jake Muller' hoodies stood outside, their incandescent images shimmering slightly with a neon blue tinge. There was a smell of brimstone in the air. Chris felt his hair standing on end. Piers' keen eyes noticed. Quickly he applied some more gel to his own.

"Who are you?" asked Chris. "And what are you doing here? This is a restricted BSAA area."

"We are the Blogging Thought Police. We have received a report of unauthorised 'Epithets' being used here." said one of the thugs. He spat the 'E' word out distastefully.

"Haven't you read our forum?" said a second.

"Their use is illegal." said the third thug.

"An they is not aloud." said the fourth and stupidest one.

"How did you get here?" challenged Chris.

"We are the Thought Police, we can teleport-in on people’s thoughts, especially those we consider guilty of bad writing. You must all come with us to a corrective writing seminar . . . in . . . Seattle!"

The other 'Policemen' nodded their thick heads in agreement. "You Bastards!" said one. "They deserve it!" said another. "Hur, hur . . . Seeatall. I bin dere. It a dump!" laughed the thicko.

"All your works will be seized." said No. 2.

"Then vetted!" snarled No. 3.

"And after the Vets has looked, Us'll burn 'em!" said Dumbo.

"I don't think so kiddo! Now Ace, engage!"

Chris grasped the first hoodie by the neck with one hand, and brought the other down on his head.

'Whack!'

"Teleport on that big boy!" said Chris.

Sparks flew out of the thug's eyes and mouth, before he winked-out and disappeared. Meanwhile Piers had begun a series of balletic melee moves against two other hoodies. He forearmed one across the throat whilst back-elbowing the other in the neck. Then he twisted the head of the one now clutching his throat and the thug vanished in a flash of iridescent neon light. So did the one on the floor when Piers stamped hard on the back of his skull.

'Whump'!

"Bet you can't read my mind now scumbag!" said Piers, making sure his hair was still in place.

Chris back flipped over the remaining hoodie and held his thick neck in his strong arms. He growled into the goon's cauliflower ear.

"Tell you masters that free speech and thought are alive and well in Nivanland. There's room for all writers. And if they don't like what they see, they can go and read Assassins’ Creed instead, Epigraphs or not."

He twisted hard and the fourth hoodie winked-out in a blaze of green sparks and final words as his neck cracked . . . "Ow! Dat really hurt . . ."

Chris put a friendly arm around Piers' shoulder and looked at Theo and Nimrod, grinning. "And there ends today’s Epitaph!"

"It's Epithet Babe . . . Agh!"

"Gotcha!"

The two archivists gave their saviours a long hug . . . a very long hug. When Chris noticed Theo's hands heading down towards his Ace's butt and Nimrod started blowing in his ear he called a halt.

"Um, sorry to spoil your fun fellas, but it's time to catch your plane . . . I think there's been enough 'creativity' for one day."

************************

Driving back to the Deuce of Hearts after dropping the two researchers off at the airport, Chris and Piers were chatting.

"You know it's funny Ace, that business with Theo and Nimrod about NnR."

"Yeh, fancy them not knowing it stood for NivansandRedfield. They didn't even guess C. & P. was us."

"Ah, I used to enjoy writing that stuff you know?"

"Me too Babe, perhaps we should write some more?"

"More? Ha, there's plenty of stories we've started and not even finished yet. Anyway, it's easier reblogging the old stuff. We never had too many Epistles though."

"No, nor Asteroids."

"Problem is these days I never get past writing Grrr!"

"Woof!"

Both Chris and Piers felt the sudden _electricity_ in the air between them as they gazed lovingly at one another. But this time there were no Epithets about . . . Or were there?

Neither Chris nor Piers were sure where their next lines came from . . .

"Look, there's a secluded pull-in!" said the senior salaciously.

"Oh, Captain!" *blushed* the younger, "And this bodice was clean-on today. . ."

************************

High in the sky above a plane winged it's way to Washington. On board the two archivists looked down on our two heroes and enjoyed the last laugh.

"To continue the classical theme, _Qui moderari ipsos moderatoris?_ " said Nimrod chuckling.

"Ah, indeed." said Theo laughing, "Who will control the controllers themselves? And they thought _they_ were in charge. It's _our_ words."

Nimrod smiled. "Yes, and _our_ epithets!"


End file.
